The Scientist

Going home.....?

Xavier pov:

I know I can't keep Hels. I understand that far better than he thinks. It's a weight that drags on my heart, the knowledge that I might drag him down with me now that the storm has passed. The world outside is a stark white, pristine yet heavy with the remnants of the blizzard, and just as the snow has begun to melt away, so too must they. That weird guy came back—the one who knew where I lived—and I felt a quiet resignation settle in. I think he knows it, too, that unspoken understanding hanging between us like a fog. It won’t make this any easier.

I was outside, shoveling the snow, the cold biting into my fingers. I didn’t have proper gloves, but that was a small discomfort compared to the ache in my chest. Each shovelful felt like a reminder of what I had to let go. The air was still, save for the soft crunch of my boots on the snow, and I tried to focus on the task, but my mind wandered.

Then I saw him—Scott—walking up to my house again. I didn’t say anything; I just looked at him. He met my gaze, his eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and something else I couldn’t quite place. With a reluctant sigh, I put the shovel down, knowing I had to let him in.

Inside, the warmth enveloped me, a stark contrast to the chill outside. Hels and Wels were both asleep, their gentle breaths filling the quiet space. Hels lay curled up on one of my blankets, blissfully content next to the fire, while Wels was a little higher up, watching over him, both of them lost in dreams. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow as I looked at them, so peaceful, so unaware of the inevitable. The moment was serene, but it felt like a farewell, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the warmth would soon fade away, just like the snow

“Tea?” I asked, glancing over at Scott. He nodded, and I turned toward the kitchen, hoping the warm air would help thaw my fingers, still stinging from the cold outside. The kettle would take a few minutes, but I needed the distraction.

As I moved through the house, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the silence hanging in the air, an unsettling hush that seemed to amplify the ticking of the clock. Scott didn’t wander or explore; he gravitated toward my two cats, their soft fur a comforting contrast to the starkness outside. He crouched down and coaxed them into his lap, his touch tender, creating a small moment of warmth amidst the tension.

Wels stirred, shifting back into his human form as he fully awakened. He stretched, his movements languid and graceful, before making his way into the kitchen. Something I had come to expect from both of them happened next: they would often come over and hug me randomly, offering a fleeting sense of connection in moments like this. True to form, Wels approached me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head against my back. It was a simple gesture, but it resonated deeply in that quiet space, a silent affirmation that he was there for me even as the weight of the impending separation loomed overhead

I continued to prepare the tea, feeling his warmth seep through my clothes, though the moment was bittersweet. Wels's presence behind me was comforting, yet the impending goodbye lingered in the back of my mind, casting a shadow over everything. As I worked, one of his hands slid down and grasped mine, only to flinch back slightly before taking it again, his fingers lacing through mine.

“Why are your hands so cold?” he whined softly, his voice carrying a trace of concern beneath the playfulness. I paused for a moment, the question hanging in the air, before glancing over my shoulder at him, a confused look crossing my face.

“Why were you trying to hold my hands?” I asked, my tone a little teasing, but even I could hear the quiet sadness underlying my words. It was such a simple thing, yet it felt like he was trying to tether me to this fleeting moment of warmth, as if holding my hand could somehow keep me from slipping away.